


Winchester Welding

by mnwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Carpenter Dean, Chubby Dean, Doctor Castiel, M/M, One Shot, Teacher Castiel, welding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12810183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnwood/pseuds/mnwood
Summary: A collection of ficlets in which Dean is either a welder or carpenter.





	1. The Bachelor

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm getting rid of my SPN blog, I'm transferring a lot of my old ficlets over to ao3. And just because I'm getting rid of my blog doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing. Follow me at [mnwood](http://mnwood.tumblr.com/) for updates.

Dean is lying facedown with a really hot guy’s hands on his bare ass.

“Do you feel that, Dean?”

“No, no, that’s fine.”

“How about right…here?”

“Ow, yeah—um, that hurts.”

Let’s go back to the beginning.

It’s a Friday night, and Dean’s plans for the evening include wearing nothing but boxers, eating a tub of ice cream and catching up on the episodes of  _The Bachelor_ that he’s missed in the past few weeks. For all intents and purposes, he is definitely  _not_ expecting the night to end with a hot guy’s hands on his bare ass.

Unfortunately for Dean, he keeps procrastinating going to the grocery store and therefore does not have any ice cream in his house. In fact, he doesn’t have much of anything of the edible variety. But he’s already taken his pants off, so it looks like he’s stuck with the plain Quaker Oats instant oatmeal he accidentally bought a couple of weeks ago.

There’s the set-up, now moving onto the plot twist.

He misreads the directions on the box and cooks the oatmeal for way longer than you’re supposed to. When he goes to retrieve it from the microwave, he burns his hand and drops the bowl on the floor.

His hand hurts like a bitch, so he swings it wildly and hits a vase of flowers his roommate’s boyfriend bought her a couple of days ago. In his attempt to save the vase, he spins and jumps and lands flat on his ass.

The vase is fine.

He lands in the oatmeal. The  _scalding hot_  oatmeal surrounded by shards of broken glass.

And now we’re back.

Dean is in the ER with second degree burns on his hand and ass, a bruised tailbone and a couple of butt cheek cuts that probably need stitches.

“OK, Dean, you’re going to be sore for a few days and it will be difficult to sit,” Dr. Novak explains as he continues to tend to Dean’s ass. “Fortunately the burns aren’t as bad as they could’ve been, and you don’t need stitches. You’re going to have to change your bandages fairly regularly, but the nurse will walk you through that before you leave. Do you mind explaining to me what happened?”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and is grateful that the doctor’s focus is on his ass instead of his reddening face. “Um, I really don’t…It’s embarrassing.”

“My hands are already on your ass, Dean. It can’t possibly get much more embarrassing,” Dr. Novak deadpans.

“Well, gee, Doc, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

It’s quiet for a moment until Dr. Novak says softly, “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Dean sighs and wonders if he hurt the dude’s feelings. Whatever, he’s not the one with three different types of injuries on his ass. “I burned myself on a bowl of oatmeal, dropped the oatmeal, fell and landed in the mess. Is that a decent enough explanation?”

Dr. Novak responds by choking back a laugh.

“Yeah, laugh it up, asshole.”

“I have to ask, what were you doing making oatmeal at 9 p.m.?”

“I’m an  _adult.”_

“You don’t seem like the type of man to enjoy oatmeal so much that you would eat it for anything other than breakfast.”

“You calling me fat?”

“I don’t know how my statement could’ve implied that you’re fat, but according to our charts you are 10 pounds above average for your height. So I suppose that yes, I could be calling you fat.”

Dean props himself up on his elbows so he can look over his shoulder and see Dr. Novak grinning like a fucking  _asshole_. “How’d you get a medical license anyway? You’re not very professional.”

“They were passing them out at Costco a few weeks ago, and I thought what the hell.”

Dean lies back down and mutters, “Nerd,” under his breath.

“I might be a nerd, but at least I didn’t fall on a bowl of oatmeal tonight and come into the ER with a burned butt and soot on my face.”

What? Dean instinctively touches his face with his uninjured hand and when he pulls his fingers away they’re black. Jesus Christ, why did he decide to shower  _after_  his  _Bachelor_  marathon?

“OK, Dean, I think you’re all set,” Dr. Novak says after a few more minutes of silence. Dean could’ve imagined it, but he swears the doctor slides a hand up his bandaged ass cheek as he tells him to sit back up.

It hurts like hell to sit, so Dean chooses to stand instead. The doctor sits at a fancy computer and starts clicking around and pulling up files that make no sense to Dean.

“Date of birth?”

“One, twenty-four, seventy-nine.”

“It looks like your father has high blood pressure, but besides that there are no other illnesses in your family.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

He clicks to another screen. “Are you still a light tobacco smoker?”

“Sure, I go through about a pack a month.”

“Alcohol consumption per week?”

“Three beers a night average.”

“Any regular exercise?”

“I went for a jog a few years ago.”

He clicks “N/A” for exercise. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a welder.”

The doctor pauses in his incessant clicking, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. “As a welder, are you exposed to dangerous conditions?”

“I mean, duh. I spend eight hours a day around shit that could explode if somebody turns a knob wrong. And breathing in chemicals and melted metal all day ain’t exactly good for your health.”

Dr. Novak types in some note about a “hazardous working environment.” He swallows an obvious lump in his throat and spends a few more seconds clicking before he asks another question. “Any allergies to medication?”

“No. Shouldn’t we have done this interview before you bandaged my ass?”

“We had enough information in our system, but you haven’t been to the doctor in a very long time. I wouldn’t be doing this if you actually did a regular physical.”

“Ooh, am I in trouble? You going to spank me?”

Without looking away from the computer screen, Dr. Novak responds, “Perhaps after your injuries heal. When was the last time you were tested for STDs?”

“Excuse me?”

“It appears you haven’t done it in a while. If you’ve been sexually active, you should schedule an appointment. Are you interested in women or men or both?”

“Both. How is this relevant to—”

“Single?”

“I’m eating oatmeal alone on a Friday night, so yeah, I think I’m single.”

“Available next Friday night?”

“What?”

The doctor finally turns and stares up at him with such seriousness Dean thinks he’s about to tell him he has cancer. “Your phone number is on file. I’m fairly confident you won’t let this conversation leave this room, so would you be opposed to me dialing that phone number for personal use?”

Dean grins and looks at the computer screen and back to the doctor. “As long as you promise to bring that lab coat.”

“And you’ll promise not to wash the soot off before I come over.”

* * *

“So, how’d you two meet?”

Dean squeezes Cas’ thigh under the table and freezes up.

“I treated him at the ER one night a few months ago,” Cas explains smoothly before taking a drink of his water.

“Dean, I didn’t know you were ever in the ER. What happened?” Ellen asks from the other end of the table.

“Wait, Cas, you’re a doctor? I didn’t know you were a doctor,” Jo interrupts.

“Is that why you took a couple of days off work a while back?” Bobby asks. “Could hardly hold down the fort without you.”

“Hey! That’s not true! We were  _fine_ ,” Pamela says with a glare at Bobby.

“Yeah, what she said,” Ash adds.

“Yes, I’m a doctor,” Cas manages to say while he has Jo’s attention.

“So we still haven’t heard why Dean was in the ER that night,” Sam interjects with a knowing smirk. “Care to tell us the whole story, Dean?”

Dean narrows his eyes at his brother. Cas rubs his thigh under the table and whispers that it’s OK. 

“Dean had a few second degree burns and some cuts from a cooking accident. I very professionally took care of him and then asked him out way later. Much, much later,” Cas lies.

“It was only two months ago,” Bobby says, sounding skeptical.

“Oh my god, guys, Dean went to the ER with burns and cuts on his ass because he fell into a broken bowl of hot oatmeal, and Cas hit on him right there in the doctor’s office because he has a thing for dirty, chubby blue collar workers,” Charlie blurts out. 

They’re all silent for a few seconds.

“I’m  _not_ chubby,” Dean mumbles.


	2. Winchester Welding

Winchester Welding, this is Sam speaking. How may I help you?

OK, did you say the pipe under your sink, Mrs. Henry? OK. Yes, we can send a welder out to take care of that. What’s your address? Alright. Yep. It’ll be about an hour. Thank you.

Winchester Welding, how may I help you? Oh, Mr. Novak, how’s that air duct working now? Good, good. You what? We, uh, normally don’t do bikes, but sure, I can send somebody over. Around 3 o’clock? Yeah, that’s good. Try not to break anything else in the meantime, alright? Thanks, Mr. Novak.

Winchester Wel – carpentry? No, we only do metalworking. I’m sorry, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. Have a nice day.

Hey, hon. Yeah, I’ll be home around 6. Nah, I’m manning the phones all day. I know. What? Dean’s coming over for dinner again? I’m starting to think you like him better than me. Yeah, no, alright. Love you, too. 

Winchester Welding, how may I help you? No, Mr. Jones, you can’t drill regular screws into steel – at least not with a 12 volt. Have you heard of Teks screws? You can buy them at any hardware store and they’ll – yep. Sure, sure. Have a nice day.

Winchester Welding, how may I help you? Uh, let me look at my list. Is this Mr. Novak? Yeah, I recognized your voice. Let’s see, we have…Dean, Ash, Jo and Charlie on today. I don’t know who will be available at 3. Yeah, no, that’s OK. You sure you don’t – oh, OK. Alright. Bye, Mr. Novak.

Winchester Weld – in store? We mostly do auto repairs, especially on city buses. For home repairs, we do just about anything if it’s steel. You sure? OK, yes, ma’am. Have a nice day.

Hey, Dean. I hear you’re coming over tonight. Yeah, whatever, asshole. Uh, let me see. Yeah, you’re going to Mr. Patel’s next. Yep. Later.

Winchester Welding, how may I help you? Yes, sir. No, sir. Have a nice day.

Winchester Welding – oh, hey, Mr. Novak. What? Did Ash not show up? He did. Is something wrong then? What was that? Just – it wasn’t satisfactory? Did he do anyth– you don’t like his mullet? Your complaint is that you don’t like his mullet. No, no, I understand, sir. Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. Novak. I will be sure to send someone else in the future.

Winchester Welding, how may I help you? Stick welding. Yes, that’s the only kind we do in-home. I’m sorry, ma’am, none of our other machines are large enough to trans– yes, I understand. Have a nice day.

Winchester – Mr. Novak. Yes, sir. You think it might still be – yes, I understand. I’ll send someone over right aw– Dean? He’s busy at the moment, but I can send Charlie. Is that OK? OK. Yep. I’ll send Charlie right over.

Hey, Charlie. Need you at Novak’s. Apparently Ash didn’t do his job right or something, I don’t know. Yeah, I know. Bye.

Hey, Dean. You did that repair at Novak’s a while back, right? He’s called like 50 times today. What? Yeah, I sent Ash. Dude, chill. What the fuck do you care? Charlie’s going back now. Oh my god, Dean, calm down. Seriously, why is this such a big deal to you? Novak cute or something? Oh shit, he _is_ , isn’t he? Fine. Jerk.

Winches– Mr. Novak, Charlie is already on her way. Yes. No. Mr. Nov–please–would– _would you like me to give my brother your personal phone number?_  No, seriously. Yes, I will tell him to call you. Immediately, if you’d like. Yes, please, for the love of god just ask him out already and stop calling here.

Thank you for calling Winchester Welding. Have a nice day.


	3. Five Times Cas was Confused by his Neighbor and One Time he Wasn't

“Shit! Fuck–fucking god _damn it. Fuck!”_

He wouldn’t have heard it if the window in his kitchen wasn’t open and he wasn’t at the sink washing his hands right at that very moment. As it happens, it was and he was, and so he easily caught the image of his new neighbor across the street – his face 100 percent  _covered_  in black soot as he ran out of his garage and into his front yard where he shook off his leather gloves and cursed up at the sky. Before Cas could even think about shouting to ask what’s wrong, the man turned back into his garage and shut it behind him.

Well alright then.

* * *

The next time Cas saw his neighbor was the following morning while he was on his way to work. Cas was opening the door to his Lincoln when there was a loud  _crash_  and his eyes followed the noise to his neighbor, standing in his open garage and reaching up to the highest makeshift shelves on the far wall to pull down enormously long pieces of metal. Was it – pipe? Maybe – what’s that stuff called? Box tube?

In any case, the man was pulling them down and letting them crash to the floor as if he didn’t care at all about his own safety and the very real possibility that he could hit himself right in the head. It was definitely not a one-person job, and yet.

Cas was still standing dumbstruck with his key in the car door when the man picked up all five of the long metal tubes (seriously, like at least 20 feet long, definitely not a one-person job) off the floor and trotted off to his backyard. 

When he finally snapped out of it, he turned back to his car only to notice another of his neighbors, Donna, out of the corner of his eye. She was staring after the new neighbor, too – her jaw slack and her coffee spilling right onto her shoe.

Cas didn’t blame her at all.

* * *

The third time Cas saw his neighbor, he was wheeling a–an oxygen tank? He was wheeling an oxygen tank into his garage. He looked around suspiciously as he removed the dolly out from under it, and he made eye contact with Castiel from across the street.

Cas panicked, waved, shut the blinds before the man waved back.

* * *

Three and a half weeks after the man has moved in, Cas decides to introduce himself. They’re all friendly in this neighborhood, so he’s actually kicking himself for how long it’s taken him to do this. 

“Hello,” Castiel greets when the door swings open to reveal his neighbor looking much,  _much_ cleaner than he’s been since he arrived.

“Uh, hey…neighbor.”

“Castiel.”

“Dean.”

They shake hands.

“I just wanted to say welcome to the neighborhood.”

Dean’s face lights up at that. “Oh, thanks. Hey, uh, do you want to come in? I just made some mac and cheese, I have enough to share.”

“Mac and cheese?”  _Aren’t you a grown adult?_

“I make it fancy. Come on in.”

Cas follows Dean inside and is immediately confused. 

There are weapons hanging on the walls – like  _real_  weapons – and thin metal sheets cut into beautiful art, steel sculptures on the floor, steel coffee table, metal chairs, metal everything. 

“Make yourself at home,” Dean says from the kitchen, and Cas plans on doing the opposite of that in this industrial wasteland.

The macaroni is indeed fancy and delicious.

* * *

The next morning, Castiel opens his front door to find a small box at his feet. There is a note that reads,  _It was cool meeting you last night. -Dean_

Inside the box is a metal key chain with an intricately twisted design made from blunt nails, bolts, washers and other such hardware. The pattern is beautiful, and it’s held together by some shiny gold material. It doesn’t look like something bought.

* * *

After work, Cas decides to go over to Dean’s house to thank him for the gift and to give him a gift in return, since he’s the new guy and all _._ However, as he’s leaving his house to cross the street, he’s nearly blinded by a light in Dean’s garage. Just as he’s about to turn around and go back inside, the light shuts off and Dean stands and turns around.

He’s wearing a thick leather jacket, even thicker leather gloves, dirty boots and a welding mask which he pushes up to reveal a soot-covered face. He’s got a clamp-looking thing in one hand and a thin stick in the other, but when he spots Cas he waves anyway.

“You’re a welder,” Cas states as soon as he’s standing outside of Dean’s garage looking like an idiot.

Dean laughs and coils his clamp thing around a machine that has an ampere setting on it. “Of course I’m a welder. What’d you think I was doing in here every day? Crocheting? Hold on, cover your ears.” He picks up a funny-looking hammer and bangs as hard as he can on the metal he was just welding. He inspects it, runs a wire brush over it, turns back to Cas.

“All the stuff in your house–”

“Yep.” He works as they talk, cleaning his work station and removing his welding gear until all he’s wearing is a sweaty wife beater and his over sized cargo pants. His skin is dirty and glistening and an incredible contrast to how soft and delicate his features are. Cas wants to lick him.

“You weld.”

“Uh, Cas, are you–”

“Why was your whole face pitch black that one day?”

“Oh, um, that? Uh, my oxyacetylene torch ran out of oxygen and crapped out on me.”

“Your what did what?”

“Plasma cutter. Mixes oxygen and acetylene together so that you can–”

“The oxygen tank you were wheeling–”

“Yeah, I had to replace the oxygen. Do you want to come in–”

“How’d you make the keychain?”

“The what? Oh, the thing I made you? That’s, uh, I brazed it.”

“You what?”

“I brazed it. With the oxyacetylene torch.”

“You said that was a plasma cutter.”

“Yeah but it does other stuff. You just switch the nozzle and take some fluxed rod and it heats it up and melts it into that nice gol– seriously, do you want to just come insi–”

“What were you doing just now? What was that thing?”

“Stick welding? You strike an arc with your wire and it creates an electrical reaction and melts the metals together. Cas, I’m really sooty, can we just–”

“You weld. You have a welding shop in your garage.”

“Yeah.”

Cas stares at Dean. Dean stares back.

“That’s so  _fucking_  hot,” Cas says before walking past Dean right into his house.


	4. A Great White What

Dean is finishing up a particularly nice bead when he feels a bump at his back. He turns to see what it is, but his mask doesn’t adjust back to normal before all that appears in his line of vision is the bubbles and seaweed of the ocean. 

Well, he should probably report it anyway. Any reason to radio up to Cas is a good reason, right?

“Hey boss, felt a bump at my back 10 seconds ago. Should I be worried?” Dean says as he focuses back down at his unfinished weld.

“Um, yes,” Cas responds stoically.

“What?”

“That was most likely a great white shark, Dean.”

_“A great white what?”_

“Dean, I need you to calm down for me, alright?” Cas talks like this is totally normal, run-of-the-mill, another day at the office type bullshit. “Great white sharks bump their prey before they return to attack. Dean,  _please_  be quiet and listen to me. I need you to take your torch and turn away from your work. When the shark returns, spray it in the face with the oxygen and it will swim away. Do you understand?”

“You kidding me right now? You want me to fight a goddamn shark with a fucking  _welding torch?”_

Cas sighs like he’s dealing with an unruly customer. “Do you see any other options in your immediate vicinity?” 

Dean doesn’t respond, and five seconds later he sees movement in the shadows. He tries not to panic as he wades in his harness, focusing on the  _swish_ of his flippers instead of the goddamn shark that’s–

He hits the trigger just as the nose of the shark is within an arm’s reach. Oxygen blows out in a steady stream of bubbles, and somehow that’s good enough to get the shark to swim away. 

As soon as Dean is calm enough to leg go of the welding torch trigger, he unhooks his harness and swims as fast as he can up to the surface.

“Dean, what are you–”

“Cas, it’s been wonderful working with you,” Dean says as he removes his scuba gear. “This isn’t a two weeks’ notice. I’m quitting right now. Hope you can find somebody else to finish that weld for you.”

Cas uncharacteristically grabs Dean’s forearm to stop him from walking to his locker. “You–you did well against the shark. I’m glad you, um, survived.”

“Gee, Cas, that means a lot to me. Thanks for all your help.” Dean gives him an insincere grin and tries to walk away again.

“Wait! Dean. Um. If you really are quitting…”

“I really am.”

“Then, um, I’m not your superior anymore.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And…you probably need someone…to…have…what’s the phrase…‘thank God you’re alive’ sex?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he stares at Cas.  _“You fucking kidding me?”_

“I–”

_“I was almost just killed by a shark!”_

“Yes, and I am afraid I will never get to–”

“All the times I was down there flirting with you, and  _now_ you ask if you can–”

“Forgive me. Professional policy is–”

“Apparently thrown out the window after shark attacks, yeah, I got that. Bye, Cas.”

Water drips to the floor as Dean stomps away, but by the time he gets to his locker his heart rate has slowed significantly. 

“Holy shit, I fought a shark today,” he says quietly to himself while packing up his gear.

The last thing he reaches for is a note hanging up in his locker that had been hiding behind work schedules and procedures. 

_Dean, I’m excited to have you on our team. You are one of the best divers I’ve ever met, and I’m sure you will be an irreplaceable asset on our builds. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. -Cas_

Dean sighs and stares up at the ceiling. Begrudgingly, he leaves the locker room and heads toward Cas’ office.

“Dean, I thought you–”

He cuts him off with a kiss, pushing him back against the small desk and knocking over the radio Cas uses to aid the divers. Dean hopes he was the only one out today. “Thanks for saving my life. What was that you said about thank God I’m alive sex?”

Cas swallows and stares down at Dean’s mouth.

Dean reaches for Cas’ belt buckle. 

The radio crackles from the floor. A panicked voice comes through.

_“Hey, uh, Cas, barracuda’s watching me and more of his friends keep showing up. You think you could…”_


	5. Show Off

Castiel does not understand the fascination people tend to have with him.

As a brand new fifth grade teacher, he meets a lot of young and middle-aged moms, many of them single but most of them not – but single or not it doesn’t really make a difference. They still all relentlessly flirt with him.

Or at least that’s what he thinks is happening. He’s still not entirely sure, but the flirting authority in his life believes it to be true. In any case, these moms are  _very_ friendly to him.

The thing is, though, Castiel doesn’t care. He doesn’t necessarily mind it either, but he doesn’t really care for their flirtations. It doesn’t make him feel special or “hot” or really anything at all.

The only time the moms make Cas feel heat rise in his cheeks or pride swell in his chest is when they ask if he’s got a sweet wife back at home.

He politely evades the question, but he wishes for nothing more than to answer honestly. To shout it from the rooftops.

But not doing so turns out to be worth it.

He’s having a meeting with several of his students’ parents during the last week of school when suddenly he loses all of their attention (moms  _and_ dads both) to a disturbance at the door of his classroom.

“Sorry to interrupt, babe. Can I borrow him for two seconds?” he asks the parents.

Cas rolls his eyes. “Would you please excuse me?” he says to the room, but absolutely no one is looking at him.

He starts walking toward the door and feels a flutter of smugness run through him. Dean obviously just got off work and immediately came over here. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to reveal corded forearms, and his jeans are grease- and paint-stained and hugging his hips where he’s got his shirts tucked in. His hair is messy probably from having safety glasses pushed up into it all day, and there’s a speck of sawdust in his prominent stubble, a pencil tucked behind his ear, Klein tool pouch still hanging from his belt. He might as well have a flashing sign over his head that reads SEXY CARPENTER. KNOWS HOW TO USE A TOOL OR TWO.

Not that it’s even necessary at all, but Cas still runs his hand through Dean’s stubble and kisses him right on the lips right there in the doorway.

So he likes showing off. Sue him.

Dean’s got a goofy grin on his face when Cas pulls back, and he clears his throat shyly and darts his eyes around the classroom. “Um, sorry, everyone. Uh, just going to – talk to my husband for a couple minutes,” Dean stutters, and it’s perfect.

Cas takes Dean by the hand and yanks him into the hallway. He can hear the whispers among the parents in his classroom, but he tries not to smile too smugly.

“What was that about?” Dean asks, already knowing the answer.

Cas gets right in his personal space and runs a finger across his belt buckle. “I’ve been waiting all year to show you off.”

“Oh yeah? You think those moms will stop flirting with you and start asking about me?”

“Let’s hope so.”

When Cas comes back into the classroom a few minutes later, his hair’s a little more disheveled than it was before, and his lips are just a tad pinker.

Half of the moms are smiling knowingly at him, and the other half still have their mouths hanging open. A few of the dads just look impressed.

“Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?” Cas asks.

Nobody says anything for a minute, but then one of the more flirtatious mothers pipes up from the back, “ _That_ was your  _husband?_ ”


End file.
